Wuthering Weekend

The Farmer’s Wife, 12 May 2012
Originally uploaded by ruknits

Another weekend without sewing progress. Sigh.

I did cut out my bluebird pansy tulip skirt – a slippery and exhausting process, even after employing Casey’s top tip to lay the fabric on muslin*. It does work, except when your muslin is lumpy underneath and you pin your main fabric to it, then try to get your scissors past the lump. Guess what happens? Yup – your slippery fabric gets pulled out of alignment: Warp Factor Ten. I may have cut a horribly mis-shapen skirt. Time will tell. But I do now know that I have enough of this fabric to make a Darling Ranges dress too – woo hoo!

*Muslin? Ah… I forgot that Casey is American. She meant calico didn’t she? Damn, that would lie flat wouldn’t it?

The main reason I didn’t sew was that the post did not come on Saturday. I was expecting a delivery of invisible zips. FL quipped that they had perhaps arrived and I just hadn’t seen them – ho ho ho!

So after doing the chores and taking The Girl for a haircut in the city, I just settled down with my knitting. I have completed three pattern repeats of the Arrowhead Stitch. It is forming stripes of what look to me like yellow tulips. I am concerned that the textured striping is not terribly flattering – the Michelin Man look is not my favourite. But I am not giving up now. It is too soon and too late (if that makes any sense).

Sunday was not much more productive. I was just plain tired. I did some desultory wind-battered weeding in the herb garden and then retreated to the sofa to knit and supply moral support to the revision of Standard Grade Biology and German.

I am reading “Wuthering Heights”. Not for the first time, I cannot get my head round who is who. This is ridiculous! I gave up on Emily Bronte during my degree, while waxing lyrical about Charlotte. But surely I can use the family tree diagram at the front of the book to back up my Kate Bush version of events? The only thing I learned about WH at University was that it was full of imagery of windows and doors. But right now my main sympathy is with the suspicious farm dogs in the opening sequence: I want to bite the characters’ knees and get them out of my house. Oh dear.